Flashes of Panic

In the unlikely event that anyone looked up the results for the Rabbit Run, I’d like to make some clarifications.

• Yes, in my first race in the 30-39 age group, I won it. Incidentally, this is a good race for “cherry-picking” (the art or sport of finding small races which are easy to win): age-group winners (and overall winners) get a “prize bag” full of New Salem stuff. In addition to what appear to be quart (glass!) bottles of maple syrup, mine contained a number of gift certificates, a loaf of multi-grain bread, and a box of tea bags. Not bad for a $12 entry.

• Topographic maps of the course should be consulted before taking that finish time as representative of what I’m capable of running even now, in my undertrained and gimpy-footed state, let alone well-trained.

• The above sentence is a very large sandbag.

• Despite the race name, the tortoise strategy is preferred. I stood as far back as eleventh (assuming I was counting correctly, which is a big assumption) in the third mile of the race.

• I’ll never understand how larger races protest difficulty finding volunteers and getting them out on a road course to read splits, when this tiny affair on roads which may see five motorized vehicles in a year and five mosquitos per second had splits read at every mile marker (except the sixth, which was nearly in sight of the finish.)

• The Quabbin is very scenic, and if you want to live in what appears to be the middle of nowhere but can’t afford a “kingdom lot” in up-state Maine, New Salem might be worth a look. It’s even smaller (by population) than the town I grew up in.

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